Disclaimer, Notes and Acknowledgements: Please refer to Chapter 1

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Chapter 3 – Departing Mirkwood

Aragorn shifted uncomfortably on his mount. Although his wound had healed well, the long ride home from Mirkwood was jolting his tender muscles, and now a dull ache had begun to spread from his buttocks to his lower back. Elrond had insisted that he return home as soon as he was well enough to travel. The elf lord feared that his foster son would somehow find more than a pack of wolves if he continued his stay in Mirkwood. Miraculously, Thranduil agreed with Elrond’s concern, but the elf lord secretly thought that the King did not want to be held responsible if something bad did happen to the young human.

Legolas Greenleaf had obtained permission from his father to travel with the human, if he promised to return home after winter as soon as the paths were cleared of snow. The elf had ridden beside Aragorn silently for the past half-hour, watching the human squirm and fidget as he annoyingly tried to find the least uncomfortable position on his horse. Chuckling softly, the elf brought his horse to a slow trot and eventually to a full stop.

Eyeing Legolas curiously, the ranger followed his lead and halted his mount beside the elf prince.

“Is something wrong?” the ranger asked, while pulling his cloak a little tighter around his body to shield him against the chilly November wind.

“I should be asking you that question,” Legolas answered with a smile. “You have been squirming and twisting on the poor horse for almost an hour as if you were sitting on an anthill,” the elf said as he dismounted gracefully. “I think we should get some rest.”

Aragorn felt his cheek flush, but pretended that he did not understand what the elf meant. “If you needed rest, you could have just said so.” The ranger grinned at a bemused Legolas as he tried to hide his discomfort as best as he could. Sliding off his own horse, the human failed to suppress a small grunt as the vibration of his landing pulled on his healing muscles. He heard a soft snort and knew that Legolas had not missed his unintentional display. “Fine, you win again,” said the man, admitting his defeat ruefully. The elf could read him like an open book and nothing got past him.

“Maybe it’s not such a good idea traveling so soon after the accident,” Legolas said, genuinely concerned for his friend’s well being.

“I’m fine, Legolas. Don’t worry.” Aragorn offered him a friendly smile. “Besides, Ada would go insane with worry were I to stay with your highness for another few months, knowing how accident prone you are.” The young man grinned mischievously, and Legolas smacked him playfully over the head for the remark.

“Did you know that you have just insulted a member of the royal family?” the blond elf scolded the ranger lightly. “The penalty for that is...” Legolas trailed off, searching for an appropriate punishment. “You have to build a fire to keep your highness warm and comfortable.”

Aragorn laughed. He knew that Legolas was only joking, since he was not affected by the cold. The fire was more for keeping _him_ warm. The sun was slowly setting beyond the horizon, and it would soon be too dark to travel, so he took Legolas’ advice and kindled a fire, while the elf dug into their packs and brought out some dried venison, fruits and bread -- their dinner for the night. They ate over light-hearted conversation about their time spent in Mirkwood, but Aragorn’s mood suddenly turned somber when they touched the topic of the wolf attack.

“If you bring up the subject in front of Elladan and Elrohir, I will kill you!” the man said threateningly. “If you so much as say the word 'wolf', I’ll never talk to you again!” Aragorn stated seriously, but he could not hide the mirth that shone brightly behind his silver-green eyes.

“Yes sir!” Legolas did a sloppy salute, and the two friends burst out into laughter.

“But I’m sure your brothers will not let you forget that incident for a very long time.” Legolas said as he recomposed himself and wiped a mirthful tear from his eye.

The ranger sighed softly. “I know, but I’ll try to avoid that topic for as long as I can.” Aragorn tossed several branches into the fire and poked at it with a small stick.

“It’s getting late. You should get some rest.” The elf rolled out Aragorn’s bedroll for him and added his own on top of it. The night was very cold, and he knew that the human would not be able to sleep comfortably without the extra warmth. He also insisted that the ranger take his blanket, despite the human’s protest, not wanting his human friend to risk falling sick before they reached Rivendell. Lord Elrond would not be happy if his son returned ill. “I will take watch tonight,” Legolas told the ranger, as the human snuggled beneath the blankets.

“Be careful.” Aragorn had no idea what made him say that, but the words rolled out of his mouth spontaneously.

“Don’t worry Estel. Nothing sane would venture out in this weather.” The elf smirked.

Aragorn rolled his eyes catching the meaning of Legolas’ words, but he agreed with his elven friend. It was insane to travel in this cold. Had he known that the weather would take such a drastic change, he would have stayed and hibernated in Mirkwood until spring. The man shifted slightly under the blankets and curled up on his side. Much as he hated to admit it, the wound on his buttock was throbbing annoyingly. The long travel made the discomfort more prominent, as they hurried to reach his home before the weather got too cold to travel. Letting his eyes wearily slip shut, Aragorn hoped that he would feel better after some rest.

Legolas watched as his friend fell into a peaceful slumber. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, concealing his long blond hair, and added some more logs to the flames to keep them burning strong. Picking up the stick that Aragorn had abandoned, he stirred the fire absentmindedly. If they made good time tomorrow, they would be able to reach the Last Homely House in the afternoon. Aragorn had suggested that they leave a day early so that he could surprise his father and brothers by arriving before he was expected. Legolas did not mind the suggestion at all, he was actually craving for Celboril’s infamous mushroom soup and could not wait to taste the faithful servant’s delicious cooking again. A smile touched his lips as he thought of the mouth-watering food, but he shuddered lightly when his thoughts drifted to the wake-up juice. A sudden sense of foreboding rushed through him, but he dismissed it quickly, putting it off as memories of the incident of several months ago. The demon was gone; Gandalf had taken care of it. However, the closer they got to Rivendell, the more uneasy he felt. He did not tell Aragorn for fear that the human would worry for him unnecessarily. Besides, he was sure that the feeling was triggered by the bad memories that he still held.

Legolas stood and stretched, flexing his fingers and rolling his shoulders, trying to relax his tense muscles. Pacing beside the fire, he told himself that everything would be all right.

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TBC...